


rewind

by awkwardpersonTM



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, Angst with no happy ending, Bullying, Death, Dissociation, Drinking Chemicals, M/M, Pining, Suicide, Unintentional Suicide, no squip au, past and present at same time, rich is still a bully in this, sorry everyone, sorta?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-13 23:42:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19261546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardpersonTM/pseuds/awkwardpersonTM
Summary: When Jeremy wakes up the day after he died, he knew something was up.





	rewind

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So this is my first solo pic but I want to thank @TheWritingDork (Ari) for beta-ing! She is literally the reason I'm posting this because otherwise it would have sat in drive for forever. Anyway, happy reading and please try not to hate me too much in the end!

 

Jeremy gasped for air as he startled into a sitting position. He was laying on the floor in his room next to his bed. _That’s… weird_ , he thought while shaking off the last bit of disorientation. Weird didn’t even begin to cover it.

 

After deducing that he didn’t just get super high last night with Michael, Jeremy realized with a start that _shit,_ he died yesterday, didn’t he? He looked around his room in confusion, wondering what in the ever-loving fuck was happening. He glanced at the calender hanging on the wall, showing the date as February the 11th, which, if Jeremy was right, meant this was the day he died. _That can’t be right, can it?_

 

“Jeremy! Are you up?” his dad called from down the hall. A, well, _alive_ Jeremy stirred at the desk, and Jeremy winced, still remembering the crick in his neck and the ache in his joints that came with a sleepless night of studying.

 

Though Jeremy had never considered himself particularly smart, he figured this was probably some rewind of the past day… the day he died. As soon as he realized this, he accepted it as just another fact, like the sky being blue or that he was in love with…well nevermind. He guessed it didn’t matter anymore. Still, his acceptance to this was astounding. Maybe it was the fact that it already happened, that it was over and done, that made him immune to his own grief. _Maybe it’s a natural dead person thing?_

 

Jere (it seems easier to keep track of him like that) made a noise halfway between a squeak and a groan, in a way that only he could, then stretched and rubbed his eyes. Jeremy watched as the realization hit Jere that _oh no I overslept again_ and then _I have five minutes to change, again?_ This was a recurring event for him. Jere jumped out of his chair, twig arms flailing and long, gangly legs fumbling throughout the room. His brown eyes were searching for something, _literally anything_ to throw on to leave the house in. Eventually, he settled on a T-shirt, the jeans he had slept in, and his beat-up converse: a pretty standard Jeremy outfit.

 

Looking back on that morning, Jeremy wished he had maybe spent more time picking out his clothes. If dying in day-old jeans and a shirt with light-sabers on the front didn’t tell you what his life was like, then you were crazier than he obviously was (hell, he was reliving the day of his death, he couldn’t be sane). He looked down at his own clothes to notice that he was wearing the same outfit (made sense, but it didn’t mean he was OK with it). Jere tried, and failed, to tame the mop of brown curls on his head before grabbing his black backpack (swapped from the original Star Wars one in a last ditch effort to make junior year better), his blue cardigan, and the carefully folded note left on his desk before rushing out of the room to brush his teeth.

 

Jeremy lingered in the room and was startled to realize this would probably be his last time there. He suddenly felt the bleak reality of the scene begin to creep in, smothering the room in a buzzing uncomfortableness, so he sat on his bed, took a breath (could a ghost or whatever he was even do that?), and looked around the room. The room wasn’t fully illuminated yet since the sun was still low. His eyes glossed over the desk with the pens that he _insisted_ he needed for the art that he’d never make, his closet full of clothes he wouldn’t wear again, his unmade bed, all of it. Most of all what really struck him was how much of Michael was present in the small room. It had practically been _their_ room, so he supposed it made sense.

 

Jeremy tried to imagine how it would look months from now, years even, after he was gone. Would there be layers of dust coating everything, or would it all be cleaned out, moved to the depths of a storage container and into the attic? He went to bedside table where he kept the only thing he couldn’t part with. It was a picture of him and Michael taken selfie-style with Michael’s arm slung over his shoulder, each flashing an easy, goofy grin. The picture had been taken on his fourteenth birthday with a polaroid camera that had long been consumed by the rest of the clutter surrounding his room. Jeremy remembered that day mostly because it was the day he realized he was in love with his best friend. _God, if he could say it so easily now, why couldn’t he just admit it before?_ If he had, would he be where he was now? Would things be different? Jeremy couldn’t even begin to fathom what could have happened.

 

Jeremy smiled, recalling how Michael came into his room, unannounced as usual, and insisted that they play Apocalypse of the Damned and eat the cake he brought (later he would tell Jeremy that he telepathically knew how sad he was through his superpower, Jere-lepethy). The rest of the day was a blur but Jeremy did remember watching Michael walk down the street towards his own house at the end of the day, feeling the butterflies that consumed his chest for the past month whenever it came to Michael, and a small smile on his lips until suddenly it made sense. _Of course it’s Michael_ , he remembered thinking.

 

Jeremy wiped away a tear that slipped out of his eye, pocketed the photo, and rushed to keep up with Jere as he was leaving through the front door to start his sprint to the bus.

 

The bus ride was torture for Jere, but when was it not? Jere sat down in the same seat he had everyday, stared out the window, and tried to pretend he wasn’t thinking about everyone looking at him. Jeremy hated knowing that people were looking at him. First, he would get that weird tingling feeling on the back of his neck. Phase two would be that his hands would start to sweat, causing him to fidget. Then, he would start worrying that everyone else was watching his fidgeting and were starting to get creeped out. If this went on long enough, all of this would cluster into one perfect shit-storm of a panic attack, and those were the epitome of ‘ _freaky things to do in an otherwise calm setting’_. The only fortunate event that happened all day was that Jere didn’t freak out on the bus, but he did come close. Dangerously close.

 

Finally, the bus pulled up to Middleborough High School, a torture chamber for students and teachers alike. Jeremy follow Jere as he stumbled out of the bus and just barely regained his balance before a body slammed into his.

 

“Maybe try to find a pair of pants that you haven’t already worn,” ‘Satan’ himself sneered.

 

“Huh, good to know you were keeping track of my wardrobe, Rich.” Jeremy didn’t know what came over him. On any other day, he would have just taken the insult (however stupid it was) and just tried to ignore the bully. But not today.

 

Rich pulled Jere towards him by the shirt and growled into his face “What did you just say to me?” His sudden confidence had seemingly evaporated into thin air. Rich was slowly lifting Jere higher and higher off the ground (curse his twig-like limbs).

 

“Well- I… I mean... Nothing. Yeah, um… ” Great, Jeremy was wondering when his stutter would show up. He rolled his eyes at Jere. Rich scoffed, then roughly released his fistful of Jere’s shirt. As he walked off, he gave Jere a look that just exuded _you’re dead later_. How right he was.

 

He followed Jere into the school and started the trek to their locker. He felt disoriented and almost out of focus, as if he was looking in through fogged up glass. He imagined himself as an astronaut being disconnected from their rocket, floating through space aimlessly, just knowing that there was nothing left for him anymore. Like nothing mattered anymore. Jeremy guessed that was true.

 

“Jere!” Jeremy’s stomach filled with butterflies, and Jeremy turned around with Jere to face the voice. Suddenly, everything felt much clearer, like Jeremy was finally tethered to the Earth again. All of his attention was on Michael. “Hey did you- how late were you up last night?” The voice that just seconds ago was full of happiness was now dripping with concern over the dark bags under Jere’s eyes. Was it bad that a part of Jeremy liked hearing the concern in his voice, knowing that he was worrying over him?

 

“History test,” Jere mumbled.

 

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself, man. You’re going to burn yourself out before April break.” Jeremy chuckled dryly. _Yep, exactly._ In typical (adorable) Michael Mell fashion, Michael was already bounding onto the next subject.“Well, anyway, I was thinking that out of all of the spinoffs Pokemon’s made, and the Mystery Dungeon series is the absolute best, right?” Jere nodded. Jeremy was too distracted by Michael to pay attention to most of the conversation.

 

“No, no, you’re definitely, like, 100% wrong! While it is second best spin-off series, the best has to be the Pokemon Ranger series! At least it didn’t start going to shit and has stayed true to its roots, unlike the Mystery Dungeon series.” Michael ‘tsk’-ed at Jere.

 

“Well, I mean, what about…” Michael paused in thought for a minute, eyes staring at the ceiling, racking his brain for a response. After a moment he sighed and muttered “Fine, you win.” Jere stuck out his tongue at Michael, who gladly returned the favor. Just then, Jeremy knew that Jere remembered the note, and realized he had to say something, _now_. Trying hard to fight the blush climbing his neck and spreading across his cheeks, Jere took that very important note out of his backpack and clutched it tightly.

 

“Hey, are you alright? Uh, do you want to go somewhere else? Wait, I think this room’s empty.” Michael furrowed his brows at the weird behavior but went along with it. That was one of the things Jeremy loved about Michael: whatever weird bullshit Jeremy seemed to be doing, Michael would just shrug and see how it played out. Hell, he even helped out most of the time.

 

Michael gently ushered Jere into the empty classroom and sat him down on top of a desk, then pulled another desk closer so that he could join him. Michael probably thought he was stressed, and so he did their usual calm down routine. Michael put his arm around Jere and held him close, and Jere, of course, took the opportunity to hide his face in Michael’s sacred patch-covered sweatshirt. Jeremy watched them sit in silence, Michael playing with Jere’s hair as Jere nuzzled himself into Michael’s chest, and thought about how he would give anything to be able to do that one more time. The two stayed like that for a minute while Jeremy took in everything that was Michael.

 

Michael had always been taller than Jeremy--not to say that he was short, but Michael was, like, 6’3. Honestly, he probably could go for sports and be good at it (Jeremy knew for a fact that he’d be great at track. When they were twelve and went to their first New York Comic Con, they found out that there were only five minutes left of signing for the Apocalypse of the Damned table. So, naturally, they booked it. Jeremy had lost his breath pretty fast, but Michael _flew_. The Javits Center was his track and the other people were his obstacles. One thing Jeremy learned that day was that _no one_ comes between Michael and his video games). While Jeremy looked like a twig, Michael was filled out and even had muscle (where he gained said muscles from? The world may never know). His hair was perpetually and stylishly messy ( _how? Just how?_ ), and he had soft chocolate-like eyes.he thing is, if Michael wanted to, he could probably be popular. He was nice, funny, and handsome: the epitome of high school guys. There were two issues with that though. First, Michael resented anything that involved ‘conforming or trying’- _his words_ -, and second, about four years back, in seventh grade, Rich started picking on Jeremy and eventually Michael found out. That particular day, Rich had Jeremy cornered in the hallway, he had caught him just leaving school. Lucky for Jeremy, Michael was supposed to meet him outside that day. As soon as he saw what was going on, his eyes narrowed and it was like he was some Hulk version of Michael. Long story short, Michael hit Rich pretty good, but since there was no one there that day to witness it, Rich just turned right back around and turned the whole school against the both of them. No one wanted to get in the line of Rich’s crossfire, so everyone just accepted that and pretended like his black eye wasn’t even there. Ever since then, it’s just been Jeremy and Michael against the world

 

. Jeremy figured that he probably knew everything about Michael. He wondered who Michael’s next ‘Jeremy’ would be. The person who would know every square inch of his best friend and every secret and go on adventures and play Apocalypse of the Damned and get high and-

 

“Uh, thanks” Jere said once he’s caught his breath. Jeremy’s thoughts came back to the empty classroom.

 

“No problem, dude. But, like are you okay now? Do you need to breathe a bit more? I can-”

 

“No, uh, actually, I- uh… I need to talk to you,” Jere stumbled over his words.

 

“Sure. What’s up?” Michael’s nonchalant response encouraged Jere to finally spit it out.

 

“So, um, today is like… Um, and, well, I… us… we… uh, yeah. So… Maybe?” Jere’s adrenaline was pumping through him, barely allowing him to form a coherent thought, let alone speak clearly.

 

Jeremy inhaled sharply and whispered, “Oh no.” Jere just about shoved the note at a very confused Michael. Then something seemed to click and his whole face melted into a dopey grin that just about killed Jere (and Jeremy ).

 

“It’s okay, buddy, I understand.” Jere perked up and smiled so wide. Jeremy thought he looked like a puppy who’d just been given a bone. “It’s our friend-a-versary today!” Okay, part of what he was trying to say. Jere looked so hopeful, his heart almost broke for the poor kid, forgetting that he had also lived through this, not even twenty-four hours ago. “I was gonna wait till tonight when we were hanging out to give this to you but…” Michael pulled off his bag and rifled through it. “I guess I could give it to you now… Happy twelve years, dude!” Michael handed Jeremy a small blue envelope. “We’ve been friends for like, ever, but I just want you to know that I think you’re the best friend anyone could ask for! You know, in case you forget it.” The puppy’s been kicked and Michael flashed him a small smile. Jeremy looked to Jere, hands shaking, teary eyes wide (he always had been terrible at hiding his emotions). Each emphasis on the word _friend_ was just another bash to his side. _It would never work, he would never like you like that, how could you ever think-_

 

“That’s, um… I don’t think you understand I-” The bell rang, effectively cutting off Jere.

 

“Oh- gotta go! You better hurry up-” Michael casually grabbed his backpack and started out the door.

 

“Michael,” Jere snapped, standing up.

 

“C’mon,” Jeremy whispered into the silent room, hoping against hope that somehow things would go differently. Michael was back to being fully concerned.

 

“Jere, are you alright? I-”

 

“I...I’m- no. No, I’m not alright! I’ve been, ugh I-” Jere tried hard to articulate the sentence he’d been dreaming of saying to Michael for so long. Jeremy held his breath. “I…”

 

“Just tell him Jere,” he tried. The logical part of him knew that he couldn’t change what was about to happen, but in that moment the part of him that was Jere, no, that _still_ _was_ Jere, was louder. For the first time since he started this whole rewind, he felt like himself. Who knows if it was the adrenaline from Jere that was spreading to him, the knowledge of what was about to come, Michael, or all three. Whatever the reason, right now Jeremy felt _alive_ , which was something he hadn’t felt since. . . well, yesterday. He relished the feeling, the lock that had been keeping his emotions (and trust him, there were _a lot_ of them) slowly starting to unlock itself. His revelation was interrupted by a sudden movement behind the door, in the windows looking out into the deserted hallway. Jeremy looked in the direction and saw Rich, along with two of his friends, peering into the classroom and giggling.

 

“Whatever. I- I can’t do it- _this._ I can’t- I can’t, I-” Jere was falling apart in front of both of them. Scratch that, the _world_ was falling apart.

 

“Jeremy, why don’t we call-”

 

“No! Stop! Just stop! It’s just- it’s too much. Alright? Just- agh- just _back off_ , man!” Jere swatted Michael off of him, forgetting about the note, with just one thing running through his mind. _Escape, escape, escape, escape!_ He (albeit _very_ dramatically) ran out of the room, and tried his best to calm himself down on his way to math. Jeremy stayed and glanced at Michael.

 

He almost looked heartbroken, almost like Jere just moments before. Jeremy hated the look on his face. He hated that Jere- no, _he_ did this. Hated that he couldn’t fix it. Tears built up behind his eyes, just waiting to pour over. Michael just stood there, staring at the door where Jere had just left. He looked at the note he was still clutched in his hand, a bit crumpled from the whole ordeal. He refolded it, put it in his pocket, and left, expressionless. When the door behind Michael closed, Jeremy felt all of the emotions that had been unleashed were safely and tightly secured back in their box. He left and followed Jere to his first period.

 

Here’s the thing: Jeremy didn’t actually blame Jere. He had spent years before then trying to find the perfect words, the perfect time, the perfect place, and then he channeled all of it into the note. The note that said everything. Jere freaked and when Jere freaked he reverted back to the old preschool logic of, _‘if you can’t see them, then they can’t see you’_ , except with stressors. For Jeremy, that was always people. Step two in his panic protocol was to surround himself with things he deemed safe and comfortable. That had always included Michael, so this was a new situation for Jere, seeing as Michael had never been the problem, he was always a solution. This made him even more confused until he blew up and just _had to escape._

 

Michael, on the other hand, was unreadable in the classroom. Jeremy wished he would have just read the note. He didn’t want to relive the rest of this, all it was doing was making Jermey feel worse about what had happened, regretting each thing more and more. And, if he was being honest, the thing he wanted most in that minute was for everything to just stop.

 

As if on cue, Jeremy found himself at lunch behind a desperate Jere, looking for Michael in the cafeteria. After no success, Jere shuffled towards the usual table and sat down, feeling more alone and awkward than ever. He took out his lunch and stared at it, too upset to really do anything else. The other kids all whispered and pointed because since when was having a panic attack on the way to math _not_ school gossip? That day, Jere had heard enough people muttering _freak_ or _spaz_ as he passed to last him a lifetime. Usually, Michael would have been there to comfort him, to help him calm down, but Michael had been MIA since that morning. Jeremy half-heartedly wondered what Michael was doing…

 

“Did you hear? Apparently his boyfriend broke up with him or something,” a girl said to her friend as the walked by.

 

“No way.”

 

“Yeah, he-” The girl’s friend nudges her, shoots a pointed glance towards Jeremy, as if she didn’t know he was right there, and they walk away, trying to contain giggles as they did so. Jere had thought Michael must have told someone (who? Jeremy had no idea) and the whole school now knew him as the idiot who got rejected by his own best friend. Of course, he couldn’t really blame Michael for rejecting him because why would someone like Michael ever like him back? Jere hunched over his untouched sandwich, trying to hold in the tears with hands covering his eyes from the lights that were too bright.

 

Staring at the somewhat pathetic kid, Jeremy realized that he wasn’t that boy anymore. Jeremy Heere really was dead, and he was just what was left. He had his memories, his thoughts, but he could never be _him_ again. The detachment he had felt all morning (except in that damn classroom) was stronger than ever, and Jeremy couldn’t help but feel like he was just masquerading as some poor kid who died, watching his final hours tick down. Sure, Jere had made mistakes, but he was also empathetic, loyal, and kind. He didn’t deserve this. The whole rewind was for his, no, _Jeremy’s_ closure of his life. After this, the people left would have to deal with their grief on their own, but for now he needed to learn how to move on. Focus on the present, not stay stuck in the past. That was what all of this was about. Strangely, he wasn’t upset about this. He’d accepted it from the moment he woke up. The few glimmering moments of hope he had were nothing more than that. Moments. Feeling grounded and actually being grounded were two separate things, and he needed to remember that throughout the rest of the day.

 

The bell to signify the end of lunch rang and Jere got up and threw out his food. Before, Jere was upset at himself for being so stupid, but now he was filling up with anger. He knew _someone_ had to have spread that info of what had happened that morning, and he hadn’t seen Rich, so the only other person it could have been, in his mind at least, was Michael. He moved through the hallways as usual (trying not to stumble over his own two feet) until he reached the chemistry lab. He stalked into the room, fuming and keeping his eyes trained to the ground, not wanting to meet the brown eyes that he knew were on him. Jeremy looked up and saw Michael from across the room. He stared at Jere with nothing but pity in his eyes. _So that’s how he really felt about me. Good to know_. Michael got up and walked towards Jere. As he got closer, Jeremy felt his heart start to ache, knowing that he’d lose him, but he soon reminded himself that he never had him to lose.

 

Michael looked down at his shoes and muttered, “Jeremy, I-”

 

“No. You don’t get to be sorry. You know how I felt about you, and yet instead of letting me down easy you broadcast it to the entire school,” Jere snapped at him.

 

“Wait, what are you talking about? Jeremy, I- do you…” Michael was quiet for a few seconds, pure confusion leaking into an expression Jeremy couldn’t place.

 

“Yeah. Like you needed a confession from me. Just- just leave me alone.”

 

“No! Jeremy, look I-” Jeremy was studying Michael’ expressions. He knew he’d always been extremely gullible, but he would _know_ if Michael was lying… right?

 

“Who even _are_ you?” Jere stared at him, and Michael hopefully saw that his eyes were puffy from crying and panic.

 

“Jeremy, just-”

 

“Alright, today we are doing a lab. Michael, sit down.” Mr. Lewis shot Michael a look and he reluctantly moved back to his seat in the back of the classroom. “The directions are online. Let’s _go_ guys!” With that, the teacher left the room, off to do who knows what, and the class shuffled to the lab benches. Jere made sure to steer clear of Michael. Seeming to get the message, Michael went to the last lab bench, sat down, and quietly started the lab on his own. Jere took a seat at the lab bench that was farthest away from Michael and waited for whoever was unlucky enough to have to work with him.

 

“Dude, what do you think this is?” Rich and his friends continued their daily game of guessing what chemicals Mr. Lewis kept on his lab table, which were not supposed to be touched. The teacher had once shared with Michael and Jere during a lunch period spent with him, that he liked to conduct his own experiments, _“for the hell of it”_.

 

“I don’t know, but it looks like water. Yeah, I think it’s water?” Jake, Rich’s closest friend, said, examining the beaker of clear liquid. _Here we go_.

 

“Final guess?” Dustin, another jock, chimed in.

 

“Yeah. That’s gotta be water,” Sebastian still sounded a little unsure.

 

“Alright, well if you’re so sure, drink it,” Rich dared Sebastian.

 

“Okay, sure,” Sebastian replied sarcastically.

 

“Go ahead,” Rich taunted, like the psychopath he was.

 

“What, no, dude, I don’t wanna drink it!”

 

“Well, I think it’s water, and I wanna be proven right!”

 

At this point Michael had started to tune into the commotion. “Rich, stop. You’re not seriously-”

 

“Shut it, Headphones.” Rich turned his attention to Michael. “Unless you want to drink it.”

 

“I’m not going to drink it Rich. I just don’t understand why you’re being a moron.” Michael didn’t let his courage waiver, even if both Jeremy and Jere knew that Michael was terrified of talking in front of the class. “And, Jeremy and I aren’t boyfriends. God, why do all of you just jump to conclusions. Rich, I know it was you who saw us in that classroom, and it was nothing,” Michael said so resolutely that Rich was even shocked into silence for a few moments. Everyone in the lab was astounded that someone would stand up to Rich.

 

Jeremy knew he shouldn’t have been staring at Michael then, he should’ve been thinking about his father, his family, everything he’d done, everything Jeremy Heere was, because he honestly don’t know what came after this. But here he was, with his eyes locked onto Michael, not being able to see or think or hear anything else besides him. He knew this was the end, and he had made up his mind that this was the last thing he wanted to see, to remember.

 

Jere was relieved, because in that moment he knew. _It wasn’t Michael._ The guilt pooled in his stomach, and he knew he had to fix this, because it was his fault, wasn’t it. Jere knew he needed to make things okay for Michael, and right then and there, he decided that if he could, he would go through this day again if it meant he could see his smile just one more time. Even though he felt a piece of his heart break from the way Michael had said _nothing had happened_. Call him reckless, Jeremy wouldn’t argue, but at least the kid was loyal.

 

Jere knew Michael hated when everyone’s attention was on him, and he knew that at any second, he would crack. And when he did, it would just reinforce in everyone that Rich was the ringmaster of Middleborough and all the other people were just the background. And for once, Jere was _tired_ of being the background. So he made a decision, and Jere thought, _it really does look like water._

 

“Rich, if you want someone to drink it, I will,” Jeremy spoke up, and everyone’s attention turned toward him.

 

“Okay then, _Jere_.” He blushed from the nickname, since only Michael called him that, but managed to maintain eye contact with Rich. Michael looked ready to cry from how angry he was, glaring daggers into Rich’s back. “Drink up,” Rich said as Jere walked (somewhat confidently) to the beaker, and looked at it for a few seconds.

 

“Jeremy, do _not_ do this!” Michael pleaded with Jere, his eyes big and wide. All Jere could hear was Michael saying _nothing had happened_ , the words bouncing around his brain and ecchoing and building on top of each other. While Jeremy wished he could say his main motivations were for the better of the school and showing Rich up, he knew that was not what Jere was thinking. Jere was thinking of Michael saying _nothing_ and the girl from lunch talking with her friend. Jere thought that if maybe, just once, he wasn’t so weak and pliable, Michael could have someone worth loving back.

 

That was why Jere could only look at Michael as he picked up the beaker and downed it without even so much as looking at it.

 

Dying was a weird feeling, and honestly, Jeremy didn’t remember much about it. After swallowing the liquid, Jere stood stock still, spine completely straight for a few seconds. Michael stared at him with worry painted across his face, looking ready to jump towards him at a moments notice. The class was silent, waiting for something to happen. Rich was the first to make a sound.

 

“Wow, Jere, didn’t know ya’ had it in you, but, _wow_.” He clapped a hand on his back. Jere tried to muster a smile, or _something_ , but suddenly, he didn’t feel okay. The world started spinning and his face turned whiter than usual. Jere lurched forward, holding himself up using a lab table.

 

“Jeremy! Are you okay?” Michael pushed everyone aside and ran to Jere.

 

“Um, I- uh-” Jere stuttered his last words and collapsed, Michael catching him and falling to the ground.

 

“Jeremy!” Michael looked beside himself. “Someone, go get Mr. Lewis! Now!” Michael was desperately trying to fix Jere, but Jeremy thought that Michael knew deep down that he couldn’t. Tears started to pour from Michael’s eyes, and he made ugly noises as he gripped Jere harder. “C’mon, c’mon Jeremy. Just wake up, _please_. Just-” Michael couldn’t even force out words anymore as he cried over the now limp Jere.

 

The class was once again completely silent, staring at Michael bent over him. Finally, Rich ran back in with Mr. Lewis, and both of their faces fall as the see Jeremy on the ground. Rich looked truly upset, and stared at the ground. Mr. Lewis had an empty look on his face as he took out his cell phone and dialed 9-1-1.

 

The only sound left was Michael sobbing as Jeremy’s vision got blurry and eventually he was completely numb.

 

* * *

 

Jeremy was in Michael’s room, the only other place in the world that he felt as comfortable as in his own room. Jeremy looked around to find that everything was left exactly how it was the last time he saw it... except Michael’s backpack wasn’t where it usually was next to the door. Jeremy sat on the bed, waiting for whatever would come next.

 

“Jeremy?” he heard a familiar voice whisper. He looked up and Michael was there, wearing the same clothes from the day he died. He looked hollow inside. “How-?”

 

He just shrugged and peered around the room. He still felt numb inside.

 

“Can you talk to me?” Michael asked a little louder.

 

“Sure,” Jeremy said. Michael took a step back.

 

Even though he looked utterly confused, Michael continued, “Why did you do it?”

 

“I don’t know. Rich, me, you... lots of reasons I guess,” he replied nonchalantly.

 

“And you don’t care.” Michael’s voice wavered. Jeremy could tell he was trying to match his tone, but it wasn’t working.

 

“I guess not. I mean it already happened so...”

 

“What do you mean?” Michael had broke. He was full-on yelling now. “I have to keep going on!” Jeremy had never seen Michael this angry before. He just stared at him. Michael scoffed. “You’re not Jeremy, so just leave already.”

 

“I know I’m not Jeremy, but-”

 

“Can you please just try. Just for a few minutes, for me.” Michael was starting to cry again, and Jeremy was back in the empty classroom, just on the verge of feeling.

 

“Why didn’t you read the note?” Jeremy asked meekly.

 

Michael looked at him. “It didn’t feel right to read it. I wanted to wait until we were better.” Michael still had tears trickling out of his eyes. Jeremy nodded. “But... were you telling the truth when you said-”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Oh.” There were a few beats of silence. “Well, I do too,” Michael said.

 

Jeremy felt his heart flutter, and he almost felt like Jeremy again, just a little off. “Can we pretend for a few minutes that everything’s normal?” Michael nodded. “Okay. Well, uh, I kind of prepared this, but-”

 

“Aw, for me?” Michael still sounded sad, but there was a hint of laughter in his voice.

 

“Shush, just… let me say this. Okay, uh, Charmanders are red, Mudkips are blue, if you were a Pokemon, I’d choose you,” Jeremy mumbled while looking at the floor.

 

Michael laughed, “Oh my god, that’s terrible,”

 

“Shut up! Stop making fun of me while I’m trying to ask you to be my boyfriend.” Jeremy pouted at him.

 

“Yeah.” With that word, any sort of happiness seemed to be sucked out of the room, and the mood shifted back to something somber. Jeremy couldn’t stand it.

 

“Um, so now I need to talk to you about, uh-” He waved his hand around, hoping Michael knew what he meant. Luckily, this time he did.

“Yeah, I just- I don’t know how I’m going to get by without you, dude,” Michael said.

 

“Honestly, me either. I’m sorry, by the way,”

 

“Yeah, that was pretty stupid,” Michael said, but the usual joking tone didn’t come out quite right.

 

“I just need to tell you this. I don’t know what’s going to happen to me, but I know you. And I know that you won’t be okay.” Jeremy could feel tears run down his face, and he knew he was _Jeremy_ again. That was good, because he needed to be to tell Michael what he had to say. “But, you need to go on. I know you’ll miss me, but you can’t dwell on it. This sounds super cheesy and cliche, but it’s true. I just… really don’t want to see you broken forever because of this.” His vision was starting to get blurry again, and he knew his time was almost up, but Jeremy was not ready to go yet. “You need to keep living, because if you don’t then the world will be all wrong. A world without Michael is something that I hope no one ever sees, because that would be really terrible,” Jeremy wouldn’t be ready ever. All he wanted was to stay there, with Michael, and live. Maybe they would stay together forever, and maybe one day they would get a house and a dog and have kids and grow old, and deal with this fifty years from now. Jeremy couldn’t leave now. “So, just, um, remember that, and goodbye.”

 

He went to turn around, not wanting the last thing Michael to see of him was him crying but then Michael grabbed his wrist, turned him around, and crashed his lips into Jeremy’s.

 

Suddenly, Jeremy understood that the rewind was for the both of them. It wasn’t just his closure, but Michael’s too. And if Michael could find closure, then Jeremy could. The frantic buzzing of worry in his head was finally at peace and so was he. The world was spinning, but Jeremy was here, Michael was here, and that’s all he needed.

 

* * *

 

Just like that, the person Michael was holding was gone, and in his place was air. A few tears slipped from his eyes and he wiped them away. After a moment, the boy moved to where he dropped his backpack and frantically rifled through it until he found a piece of paper folded neatly with his name scrawled on it in painfully familiar handwriting. He gave a fond, small smile at it and opened the letter.

 

_Michael,_

_Okay, I’m just going to say it, I like you. Like,_ like _like you. This sounds real elementary school, I know, but just go with it. I decided to write this in a letter, because we both know how good I am with speaking (not), but I think you know that. I just want you to know this, and if you want to, would you like to go on a date sometime? If you say yes, I’m just letting you know, I have a cheesy pick up line ready! You’re my best friend, the person I love most in the world, and I want you to know that. So… wanna be my boyfriend?_

_Your best friend,_

_Jeremy_


End file.
